


Preliminary Results

by ChocoChipBiscuit



Series: Research is its own reward [1]
Category: Fallout (Video Games), Fallout 4
Genre: Communication, Cunnilingus, Dirty Talk, Established Relationship, F/F, Laughter During Sex, Playful Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-20
Updated: 2016-01-20
Packaged: 2018-05-15 04:28:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,410
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5771338
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ChocoChipBiscuit/pseuds/ChocoChipBiscuit
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Tell me how you want to be touched,” Nora whispers, warm and husky with want. Trails her fingers through Curie’s hair, breath soft with cinnamon. A lingering lick of honey on her lips, a sugar-coated syllable sticky on her tongue. Even the distant hum of the generators tastes electric and alive in the air.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Preliminary Results

“Tell me how you want to be touched,” Nora whispers, warm and husky with want. Trails her fingers through Curie’s hair, breath soft with cinnamon. A lingering lick of honey on her lips, a sugar-coated syllable sticky on her tongue. Even the distant hum of the generators tastes electric and alive in the air.

Curie shakes her head, crinkling the tip of her nose. The purpling sky reflects in her eyes, shimmers opal. “I would not know. This is all so very new.” Arches her back, butting her head into Nora’s palm. Sitting side by side on the sagging mattress, bodies angled to one another. As private a heaven as any, this quiet room in the most distant part of Sanctuary. Codsworth’s homemade potpourri sits in a cracked ceramic bowl, scenting the room with spice and the dry promise of summer. “But I enjoy when you stroke my hair. And your lips are so soft.” An open-mouthed smile, cheeks dimpling. “I enjoy your lips very much. But perhaps you should tell me what you like? I have seen old videos…”

“Oh my _gaaaaawd_ ,” Nora groans. “Please don’t tell me you been watching them old video nasties.”

“That is exactly what Cait calls them!”

“‘Nasty’ is the right word. Most of that shit ain’t for women. It’s for guys to jack off to the _idea_ of what women do with other women,” she says, long and mournful. A dramatic shudder. “Trust me, I been trying to forget half the shit I saw.”

“It is why I would rather ask you, dearest Nora.” Curie cups her hands over Nora’s, thumb running smooth over the backs of Nora’s knuckles. Rubs slow circles, tilts her head and asks, “Please, if you would tell me, I would greatly appreciate it. I much prefer primary sources over any other. And my body is still so new to me.”

Nora chuckles, raising their joined hands so she can kiss Curie’s thumb. Smooth and tender, a hint of lemon from the soap Curie loves. “Just because it’s something _I_ like doesn’t mean you’re gonna like it too, hon.”

“That is an experiment for another day then.” And she says it so sweetly, twiddling at her ear before remembering she already set her pencil aside. “But please tell me what you like. I have never pleasured anyone before, but wish very much to do so for you.”

“I can do better than that. I can show you,” Nora says, tossing her head so the coarse waves of curl fall back over her shoulders.

“I prefer a multimodal strategy,” says Curie, a touch reproachful if it weren’t for the laughter stitched beneath the words.

“Alright, I can give you auditory,” Nora says with a grin, “but you gotta give me tactile.”

“Kinesthetic! Tactile is a sensation, not a--”

“See Curie? You’re the brains. I’m the one who barely graduated high school ‘cuz my shop class brought up my lousy chem grades.”

“I do wish you would not disparage yourself so,” Curie says, and this time the reproach comes through, prickly and mournful. “I love you and you are a brilliant woman. Academic rigor is not the only scale that matters.”

“Wish I’d had someone like you believing in me, back before the war.” Nora stretches an arm overhead, scratches behind her neck with an awkward shrug. “Then again, the bombs fell, so… uh, never mind. This got real dark. Wanna just make out for a bit?”

Curie takes the shift in stride, as always. Murmurs, “Tell me how you want to be touched,” so close they’re passing breath between them, and Nora kisses her lips. Soft, faintly sweet and waxy from Curie’s lip balm. Nora gives a slip of tongue, but Curie pulls back to say, “My dearest Nora, I am still asking you to speak to me.”

“Unh. Okay. I like when we kiss, I like being touched ‘bout everywhere. But especially the neck, breasts, thighs. Not real big on penetration, though a finger or two curved on my G-spot’s nice. And I like oral.” Flushes, hot-necked and itchy in only the way a pretty girl gets her. Can cuss with the best of ‘em, blister paint and made her brother and all his army buddies blush when she got going, but damn if she still doesn’t blush up beautiful at a pretty girl. “Lots and lots of oral, clit stimulation.” Like if she says it loud enough, fast enough, the consonants will click off her teeth, rattle and drop like penny-wishes.

“I love your breasts and thighs,” Curie murmurs, hands poised like butterflies at the neck of Nora’s shirt. Worn flannel, snug-- but Curie’s hands are warmer, softer as Nora nods permission and Curie unwraps her like a gift. Releases the buttons one at a time, fingernails ticking against the snaps. Kisses the slope of Nora’s breast and slips her hands around Nora’s belly, buries them in the soft rolls of flesh around Nora’s hips and melts into her.

“Good thing there’s so much of them to love, then,” Nora starts, but she whimpers as Curie licks under her neck, gentle suction and pop of lips on skin. “Oh no, don’t stop. That was nice.”

“Then keep talking. I need every bit of information on what my beloved enjoys,” Curie says. Her attempt at impartiality falls apart with a giggle. “Please talk to me. I love to hear your voice.”

“Okay then-- fuck, but I love your mouth on me like that, and the-- the way you use a little bit of tooth, yeah. No, not a nip, more like… yeah,” Nora sighs, and she sags jelly-boned into the bed, listing sideways and rolling until she’s on her back, Curie on top and straddling her thighs.

Curie kisses her neck, dots her tongue and trails lower. A stipple of warmth and wetness, smooth nails catching against Nora’s skin as she tries reaching underneath for the bra straps.

“No, no. I can do that, just lemme…” And Nora humps her hips, an accidental-then-not grind into Curie’s body. Back arched so she can shimmy her hands beneath, an improbable twist as Nora unhooks her own bra and pulls it up. Teamwork now, Curie rolling back the shoulders of the shirt as Nora pulls shirt and bra off in a series of jerks. Clumsy slap of skin on skin, Curie’s palm sliding across Nora’s bicep, ruddied lines of underwiring and strain stretched across Nora’s breasts and ribs. Red striations over silvered growth marks, warm flesh supple and yielding. Brown soft circles of areola, broad and flat. All curves and billows to Curie’s lines and angles. Curie’s hip juts into Nora’s thigh, Nora turning to kiss the fine bones of Curie’s wrist as Curie cups her face.

“You are beautiful. So beautiful,” Curie says, voice soft with wonder. Still running those impossibly smooth hands over every ragged seam of Nora’s body. Her pretty pale hands still so soft, with clean white lines of nail and smooth cuticle. So unlike Nora’s near-permanent line of grime beneath the blunt edges. Even elbows-deep in gore and gut, Curie remains unblemished.

Not that Nora had ever been quite that sweet. “I’m a big fat saggy lady, but at least my boobs are nice,” Nora chuckles.

Curie shakes her head, frowns. “No. It is true, you are not like the ladies of the video nasties. Or the magazines which Monsieur Hancock insists on hiding beneath his mattress and which Monsieur Danse pretends not to read. Or--”

“Please stop right there or I’m gonna hurl.” Squints her eyes, pops her tongue out and gags.

Curie taps her fingers together, poised to pinch Nora’s tongue before Nora wisely retreats. “Like watermarks. Or those stamp collectors, no? There is beauty in the flaws, in the deviations from the ‘perfect.’” Curie smiles, dimples flashing as she kisses the hollow of Nora’s throat. “And there are few people who look like those ladies of the magazines. They are quite lovely, but only a small sample of beauty. They do not represent the population by any measure.”

“Ooh, baby, gimme statistics. I love when you talk dirty.” And fuck if she understands all the things Curie talks about sometimes, but there’s so much _joy_ in her. How can Nora not love that?

“I will trade. I will talk the dirty statistics for you as I kiss and explore, then you shall talk the dirty words as I perform cunnilingus?”

“You cunning linguist, you,” Nora laughs around a mouthful of hair, tilting downward to land a kiss on Curie’s forehead. “Sure. Good deal.”

“Very well. You have a higher percentage of body fat than most Wastelanders-- it is true. Very soft and very nice,” Curie says, hand cupped over Nora’s breast, thumb tracing a curved line beneath the nipple. “You are also quite tall. Better nutrition means people of your time averaged taller than most people of this time. You command respect when you walk, and--” A reproachful pinch, tweaking the nipple as Nora’s shoulders shake. “I am being quite serious!”

“I know you are, and it’s fucking precious.”

“But if you continue to laugh, the mood shall be utterly lost!”

Nora bites her lip to halt the spill of laughter, chest heaving and jiggling through her breasts and belly. Friction of skin against Curie’s soft denim. “Laughing’s fun. Sex is fun. And _you_ ,” she chuckles, catching Curie’s wrist and pressing Curie’s hand over her bare breast, “are the most fun I’ve ever had. With or without clothes.”

And she thanks the stars, the moon, every goddamned nursery rhyme and skip-song she ever learned, anything that might have remotely led to this moment because Curie laughs and buries her nose against Nora’s cleavage, tilts her head and tugs Nora’s nipple into her mouth. As much tongue as lips, rolling until the nipple’s a hard bud. Kisses soft, blows a cool puff of air that makes Nora shiver and squeeze Curie’s hand. Skin pebbled with chill, makes Curie’s hands feel all the warmer. A tickle of lips, Curie trailing her mouth lower, over the swell of belly and kissing the skin just above the buckle. More cooperation, laughter wrapped around them like a blanket as they work together with Nora unbuckling the belt, Curie undoing Nora’s pants, then another awkward shimmy as Curie pulls Nora’s pants off and Nora lifts her hips. Underwear follows, an easier task.

But Nora keeps her socks on, shakes her head when Curie first tugs at them. “My feet get cold, dammit.”

“Then I shall keep you warm with my love,” Curie says decisively, nuzzling the tender line of Nora’s inner thigh.

Nora pushes back on her heels, wriggling herself into the pillows. One pillow against the wall, propped behind her head-- another under her ass, as much comfort as making an easy prop for Curie. “Love, shmove. Even you’re not warm enough for one of these goddamn Boston winters.”

“Please do watch your words, or I shall measure your rectal temperature.” Curie’s lips twitch, struggling to keep a straight face as she presses a prim kiss on Nora’s pubis. Rustles through the curls of pubic hair.

“We playing doctor now?” Nora laughs.

“Only if you wish.”

“Then nah, I’d rather play cute girlfriends.” One hand clenched tight into the pillow, the other on Curie’s head-- light, gentle. A touchstone, not an anchor. “Fuck, you look so gorgeous. So cute like that, on your elbows and hands on my thighs. Yeah, part the lips like that-- I like big broad laps first, then harder sucking when I get really into it. Lots of wet, no fingers until I get real excited.”

Curie hums agreement, nose tickling through Nora’s pubic hair. A soft giggle, warm breath across Nora’s skin, and she licks. Gently, at first-- too gentle, but more strength when Nora tells her to. Then harder to keep track of just what Curie’s doing because it’s a warm swirl of wet, a roll of her tongue and it feels good, so good. Nora forces her eyes open, wants to see Curie’s closed eyes, the sweet furrow of concentration and the way Curie rocks into her with her whole body. Nora’s knees hook over Curie’s shoulders, trembling with the effort it takes not to squeeze in, trying to stay open and relaxed but oh, oh it feels good, especially when Curie purses her lips and there’s _pressure_ and _suction_ and god, oh god, one of the best things about Curie is that she _listens_ without words, takes each roll and moan in stride. When Nora rocks forward on her ass, pushing herself into Curie’s mouth, Curie prods harder with her tongue, ups the intensity. When Nora squirms back, hand fisted in the pillow, Curie lets her go, backs off and lets Nora decrease the stimulation.

“Fuck’s sake, I’m close. If you put a finger in…” Nora moans, low and throaty. Head drifting back, popcorn ceiling swimming hazy and star-like over her half-opened eyes. “Yeah, crook it like that. Beckoning, ‘cuz you’re gonna make me _come_ …”

Curie curls her finger, mouth firm over Nora’s clit. Gentle thrust, cheeks and forehead pink, pink, pinker than Nora’s ever seen, and then it all blurs out of focus as she finally _comes_. Clear, beautiful, transcendent. Orgasm shivering through her, uncurling from her belly and washing all through her toes. Even tickles through her socks.

Right after it’s too much, painful in intensity. Groans “stop” and Curie stops, kisses the inside of Nora’s thigh and elbow-crawls her way up beside Nora. Lips glossy with slick, and Nora tastes herself off Curie’s lips before Curie tucks her knees and curls into the space of Nora’s arm. A practiced fit, more comfortable than the number of crappy bedrolls and lumpy mattresses they’ve used while traveling. Sweat cooling over her skin, blotting beneath Curie’s fingers. Long strokes, soothing. Fraying cuff tickles Nora’s belly, makes her giggle.

“Never ate anyone out before, huh? You did a damn good job, ‘specially for a first time,” Nora says, kissing Curie’s scalp.

Curie rests her palm over Nora’s chest, pressed flat to feel the heartbeat. Cadence slowing, drifting to match the easy peace of the afterglow. “I had a very good teacher.”

“What was her name so I can thank her?”

“It was you, silly.” Curie giggles, swatting Nora’s shoulder.

Nora announces “Then I thank myself very much!” before collapsing in waves of laughter, drowning in Curie’s kisses and only surfacing for air.


End file.
